Page 27 of The Art of Taking Second Chances

“We have different lives now. We don’t need to be friends.”

“And yet, here we are.”

Move past the hurt and the pain. Maybe that’s what I needed. For all these years, I had been weighed down by it. Maybe we could get to a point where I could think about him without bitterness in my heart. Maybe that would help me heal.

“You’ve always been a part of my life, Sameer, a part of me even when I didn’t want it. I haven’t been able to cut you out. But I can’t…”

I looked at my coffee again. It had lost its steam and so had I. “Let’s talk about you. Are you happy?”

“No.” He let his undaunting eyes meet mine, but I chose deflection.

“I don’t even know what you do for a living.”

He waited a few breaths, then answered. “I run an investment firm. I took over from my uncle when he retired some years ago.”

“Huh!” I said, lifting the cup to my lips.

“What’s that?”

“Nothing. I thought things had changed. You had changed.”

“What does that mean?” he demanded with a deep frown.

“You’ve always had everything handed to you, everything laid out right at your feet. Here I thought you would’ve accomplished something on your own merit. You surely have the potential. But it’s the lack of inclination that was always the problem, wasn’t it?”

I knew I was being unfair, but I wanted him to hurt like he’d hurt me.

His fair face turned red. “What is your problem, Tara? I’ve been nothing but civil.”

“Civil? Is that supposed to be my consolation? My problem is that you’re still the spoilt rich boy, cruising through life, riding on the wave of your privilege and wealth. Demanding me back as if you’re entitled to my love, to me. I hoped you’d changed, but you are still the same. How would you understand what I’ve been through? While I was busy busting my ass trying to find a foothold in the world, you were busy crushing people like me with the weight of everything you’ve inherited, not earned.”

In one swift motion, he grabbed his phone from the table and slid out of the booth. “This is unfair. I said I would tell you everything, but until then, you don’t get to sit here and make judgments about me. If you have issues with me because I’m rich, that’s your problem, Tara, not mine. I’ve always respected you, but you don’t get to insult me like this.” He took two steps toward the exit, then turned around and added, “You’re right, this wasn’t the best idea.”

With angry steps, he strode away.

This time, he didn’t come back.

Chapter 9

Tara

My fingernails dug into the heels of my palm. I didn’t regret what I’d said, only how I said it. Thinking about my father, who had worked so hard all his life, filled me with a sadness that had quickly turned to anger. I had taken it out on Sameer because neither subtlety nor diplomacy were among my virtues.

I texted Sona to see if she was free for a call. An early riser, she meticulously kept to her writing schedule, even on the weekends. She called me back promptly.

“Hey, what’s up?”

“Are you writing? I’d hate to interrupt.”

“No, just came back from a run.”

“I really need to talk to you.”

“What happened?” I imagined her sitting on the couch with her feet on the coffee table.

“I saw Sameer again and said some really horrible things to him,” I confessed in Marathi.

“Oh, are you alright?” It was only under very specific circumstances that we broke into our native language, so she was understandably concerned. I told her everything as calmly as I could manage.

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